


Take a Deliberate Step Forward, Don't Look Back

by AetherSeer



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Pittsburgh Penguins, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Coital Cuddling, Washington Capitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11386260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AetherSeer/pseuds/AetherSeer
Summary: Alex has spoken—at length—about missed opportunities, but Nicklas isn’t stupid. Alex has wanted Sid for a long time, but he won’t do this without Nicklas.Geno’s the other part of the equation, the one that Nicklas is more familiar with thanks to Alex’s drunken ramblings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunshinexbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/gifts).



The elevator ride seems to take forever. Logically, Nicklas knows it’s a short ride up to the eighth floor, but watching Alex fidget and fiddle with the strings of his worn Capitals hoodie makes time slow to a crawl.

Alex glances over and catches Nicklas’ eye. He smiles reassuringly at Nicklas, the gap in his teeth clearly visible. For some reason, that familiar flaw in Alex’s otherwise handsome profile makes Nicklas’ stomach settle. “Can say ‘no’ if you not want, Nicky.”

Nicklas doesn’t deign that with a response. He’s said “yes” to so many of Alex’s terrible ideas, what’s one more?

Alex laughs at him, just as the elevator doors slide open with a cheerful ding. Alex crowds Nicklas out of the elevator, knocking shoulders as they walk down the hallway. The room is 871, because of course it is. Crosby’s a superstitious fuck; the entire league knows it.

Nicklas steps aside as Alex knocks imperiously. When the door opens to reveal a rumpled Evgeni Malkin, Alex’s delight soars. Nicklas might be behind him, but he can picture those heavy eyebrows waggling suggestively from here. “Zhenya, so good to see you! And where is your wonderful waddling captain?”

Malkin just rolls his eyes and steps back to let them in the room. Nicklas offers him a nod; he gets one in return. Sometimes it’s best to just let Alex be Alex, as overenthusiastic and flashy as he may be. Malkin can likely sympathize with the difficulty of reining him in, having played with—and against—Alex as often as he has.

“You’ve roomed with Alex before, right?”

Malkin sighs. “Every international tournament. Russia think we friends.”

Nicklas has never been Alex’s road roommate, but he knows the bright chaos that follows Alex wherever he goes. Alex isn’t shy, and he’s not afraid to be in the spotlight. Malkin’s dislike of answering English-speaking media is well-known and documented, but he’s often rescued by—

“Sid!”

Crosby smacks a palm in the center of Alex’s chest to avoid the hug. Nicklas fights back a smile at the resulting pleading look. “Sid, friends hug to say hello! Are we not best friends?”

Crosby’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, Nicklas notices. “I never said we were best friends, Ovi.”

Alex honest-to-God pouts. Malkin snickers beside him. “I’m Sid best friend, Sasha. All NHL knows this.”

That gets a laugh out of Crosby, even though Nicklas honestly doesn’t see how it’s funny. Crosby quickly gets down to business, though, and Nicklas takes a seat on the couch. Alex cuddles in close, bullying his way under Nicklas’ arm. Nicklas slides his fingertips over the short, graying hairs at Alex’s nape in a familiar caress.

 

Leaving the hotel, Nicklas shakes his head. “I still don’t see what this will accomplish.”

Crosby, walking beside Nicklas with his hands in his pockets, shrugs. “I’ve spent plenty of time with Ovi, but I really don’t know much about you other than your hockey.”

“I still don’t see how taking me on a date will help Alex get his hands on your ass,” Nicklas points out.

Crosby snorts. “He’s lucky I didn’t insist on three dates.”

Nicklas laughs. “Not that kind of girl, Crosby?”

“Sid, since we’re getting to know each other.” Crosby’s eyes are a warm brown, his smile crooked. Nicklas takes a long look and considers. Crosby’s not bad-looking by any means. He’s solidly built, with wide shoulders, thick thighs, and an ass that is rightfully known as the “best in the league.” He’s thick with preseason muscle, and even standing awkwardly on the sidewalk outside a hotel on the outskirts of Washington, Nicklas can still see the appeal.

“Nicky,” he offers.

Crosby—Sid—starts walking again. “I looked it up on a map; there should be a walking path over here.”

Nicklas keeps pace with Sid as they cross the street to the wooded park. The walking path is unpaved but smooth. “Why did you say yes to Alex?”

“Ovi is—he’s hard to say no to. And it’s not like Geno and I haven’t talked about bringing in a third for a while, but it’s hard to find people. Y’know? Especially when we’re—” Sid takes one hand out of his pockets. He gestures at himself.

“When you’re _Sidney Crosby_ and _Geno Malkin_ and you’re together?”

Sid sighs. “Yes. That. It’s not like the sex is bad. It’s really, really good, actually, but sometimes … sometimes it’d be nice to be able to go out and not have to worry. And if there’s someone else with you—”

“—it doesn’t look like a date,” Nicklas finishes.

Sid smiles at him, clearly happy Nicklas is on the same page. Nicklas takes in the calm of the park. The dirt beneath his shoes; the ducks paddling in the small lake; the pigeons clustered around a full trash bin a few meters away. “So, sex with Malkin. Tell me more about that.”

Sid’s embarrassed squawk sends the pigeons scattering, and Nicklas laughs.

 

They find a vendor selling ice cream about a mile and a half from the hotel. Sid is visibly torn. Nicklas has no such qualms about breaking his summer diet restrictions and hands over a five in exchange for a strawberry ice cream cone. Nicklas is halfway done with his ice cream when Sid finally settles on chocolate.

Sid’s a careful eater, taking tiny bites and licking the edges of the cones to avoid drips. He also likely has no idea what he looks like when he does. It makes Nicklas kinda wants to mess him up. So Nicklas hipchecks Sid in the middle of taking a bite. Sid keeps his balance, but his ice cream skids over his cheek, leaving a chocolate trail.

“Whoops,” Nicklas deadpans.

Sid just glares at him. His ice cream is starting to melt over his fingers. Nicklas takes a deliberate bite of his own, holding Sid’s gaze. Sid breaks first, scrambling to keep what remains of his ice cream from dribbling over his fingers. Nicklas crunches down on his cone, neatly licking up the sole line of strawberry in the webbing of his index finger.

He wipes his hand on his shorts; they’ll wash. Sid’s still working on his cone. He’s down to the last few bites, but hasn’t managed to get all the chocolate off his face. Sid tries and fails to get the last of ice cream on his cheek, and Nicklas steps closer. Now close up against Sid, definitely in Sid’s personal bubble, Nicklas can see the flecks of gold and green in his eyes.

Nicklas wets his thumb to rub the ice cream away. His hand catches against Sid’s cheek. He leans in, just to see what Sid will do. For a moment, they’re close enough to kiss, and Nicklas’ eyes drop to Sid’s lips. Sid brings his own—thankfully ice cream-free—hand up around the back of Nicklas’ neck.

No one’s around; the park’s empty but for them. Nicklas waits for Sid to close the gap. Sid does, to Nicklas’ surprise.

The kiss is … sweet, Nicklas decides. Sid tastes a little like chocolate, but more like skin and heat, and the press of his lips is different than kissing Alex. For one, Sid surges up to take control of the kiss where Alex happily lets Nicklas lead. Nicklas finds he doesn’t mind so much, not when he’s kissing back just as fiercely.

Nicklas breaks the kiss to steal a breath, but presses back in almost immediately. There are plenty of guys in the league who have commented on Sid’s lips; Nicklas won’t be the one to tell them Sid’s kisses are better than the rumors suggest.

They have to separate after a while. Sid’s mouth is redder than usual, and Nicklas is sure his hair is a disaster from Sid’s hands. But even in a deserted park, there’s still a _chance_ of being seen. Canada and Sweden legalized same-sex relationships a long time ago, but _Pittsburgh’s Golden Boy spotted kissing Washington’s Bäckström_ is a headline neither of them want to see.

But if Nicklas quietly cops a feel of that magnificent backside, or Sid scrapes his teeth against the underside of Nicklas’ jaw in a promise of what could be, well, the squirrels aren’t going to judge.

 

The two of them wander back to the hotel as twilight falls, hands still sticky from rivulets of melted ice cream.

Alex and Malkin—Geno—join them for dinner out on the back patio. There’s no one else back there, and Nicklas idly wonders how that’s possible. Sid flushes red when Alex waggles his eyebrows at him over their steaks, and Geno smiles at Sid fondly.

Nicklas, for his part, gives Alex a smug grin and jerks his head in Sid’s direction. He watches Alex consider, and then his mouth drop open in indignation. Nicklas feels no guilt; Alex is more than familiar with Geno at this point, and Nicklas simply evened the score.

Alex huffs and turns his attention back to Sid. He gesticulates wildly, sharing the latest in league gossip that Sid, ever technology-shy, might not have heard yet. But even as Nicklas watches, Alex scoots his chair closer and closer, edging into Sid’s space like the wonderfully irritating parasite he can be.

Nicklas sits back and watches as Alex flirts, and carefully considers the logistics. Sid and Geno, one of the star-crossed romances and best-kept secrets in the league. Oh, the fans suspect, and some of the management might even know, but no one’s let enough slip to confirm.

Alex has spoken—at length—about missed opportunities, and also waxed poetic about Sid’s ass, but Nicklas isn’t stupid. Alex has wanted Sid for a long time, but he won’t do this without Nicklas. Alex hoards small pieces of his life to himself even as he tosses others to the wider world to share. He’s far from what the media paints him, and Nicklas is glad few are privilege to that fact.

Nicklas catches Geno’s eye from across the table. Geno’s the other part of the equation, the one that Nicklas is more familiar with thanks to Alex’s drunken ramblings about his fellow Russian. Nicklas stands and tosses his napkin to the table. “Geno?”

Geno also stands, and brushes a hand over Sid’s shoulder as he leaves. Sid gives him a bright-eyed smile before Alex distracts him once more with wild tales from Washington that are at best half-true. Although, Nicklas admits, the one about Latts and Willy and that unfortunate blender incident is actually completely true.

Geno, though listed at the same height, easily has another inch or two on Alex, and therefore at least three on Nicklas. Nicklas leans against the patio railing and lets himself _look_.

Geno, while not as stockily built as Sid, is still a hockey player. His face isn’t necessarily what Nicklas would consider handsome—but he’s also in love with Alex Ovechkin, the toothless wonder, so his opinion may be skewed. Geno’s long all over, and from what Nicklas has overheard in locker room banter, he’s proportional.

Geno, for his part, leans back against the wall and preens under the attention, dark eyes running over Nicklas’ body. His cotton T-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest. “You like what you see?”

Nicklas lets one side of his mouth quirk up. “If you know how to use it,” he answers.

“Sid have no complaints.”

“I’m not Sid.”

“I’m notice.” Geno crowds him against the railing, using his height to his advantage. Nicklas has to tip his head back to meet Geno’s eyes. Geno grins down at him. It’s not a nice grin, and Nicklas bares his teeth right back. This could be interesting.

Nicklas steals a glance over to the table. Alex and Sid are watching. Sid looks interested, leaning forward in his seat. Nicklas knows that hungry look in Alex’s eyes. He shivers. Geno steps back. “I’m head to room. Sid?”

Sid stands and follows Geno back into the hotel, but he trails a hand over Alex’s shoulder in what’s unmistakably an invitation. Nicklas blinks and Alex is there, heavy hands cupping his face. “Nicky, you make call. Yes, or no?”

“Yes,” Nicklas says. “Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few readers asked for a continuation to this story. I'm not practiced at writing sex scenes, so let me know if I've made any grievous errors. 
> 
> I make no promises about another chapter. It might happen, though, if the boys cooperate.

This time, the elevator ride passes in a blink and a half. Alex whirls Nicklas down the hall and presses up against his back when Nicklas knocks at the door. Nicklas leans back just the slightest bit into Alex, taking comfort in the warmth of his broad chest. Alex, for his part, nips at Nicklas’ shoulder just as Sid opens the door.

Nicklas finds himself chivvied through the doorway into the living space in three seconds flat, and stops short when Geno emerges bare-chested from the bedroom. “How do we want to do this?” Alex asks, thumb rubbing comfortably just above Nicklas’ hip.

Nicklas turns in Alex’s arms. “I want to see you kiss Sid.” He’s close enough to see Alex’s eyes dilate just the tiniest bit, and presses a kiss to the corner of Alex’s mouth. “And later, I want to watch him spread you out and _take you apart_.”

Nicklas hears Sid inhale sharply. He steps out of Alex’s hold, nudging Alex toward where Sid is standing next to the couch. Geno’s leaning against the bedroom doorframe, watching Sid and Alex circle one another.

Sid makes the first move, drawing Alex closer to him with a hand at his hip, his other hand cupping the nape of Alex’s neck to angle him down for a kiss. Alex goes willingly enough, stepping into Sid’s space and settling possessive hands at Sid’s hips, just above the generous swell of his ass.

It’s pretty clear when Sid takes control of the kiss. Alex’s eyes slip shut and he sinks into Sid, letting Sid take his not-inconsiderable weight. Sid takes it easily, steadying them both with a thigh braced against Alex’s hip. Nicklas watches Alex carefully, cataloging each muscle twitch and fluttering finger.

He jumps when a large hand lands on his shoulder. Geno’s warm smile greets him; Nicklas’ eyes drift between Geno’s hungry gaze and his bare chest. “Pretty, no?”

Nicklas raises an eyebrow. “Very,” he agrees. And it is a pretty sight, Sid pressing Alex down onto the couch and settling in Alex’s lap. Thick thighs cage Alex’s ribcage, Alex’s head tipped back against the cushion to expose his neck for Sid’s perusal. Neither of them have even lost their shirts yet, which—

Sid beats Nicklas to the punch, snaking his hands beneath Alex’s hem and yanking Alex’s hoodie over his head. Alex yelps as his necklace gets caught, and his hands fly up to untangle it. Sid waits, and then tosses the hoodie to the side. In true Alex fashion, he’s gone without another shirt beneath, leaving his chest bare to Sid’s exploration.

Geno makes an interested noise from behind Nicklas. His fingers tighten on Nicklas’ shoulder; Nicklas lets out a breath. He shrugs off Geno’s hand—ignores the small hurt sounds Geno lets slip—and takes two steps to the right. The bed’s a California king; it still might be a tight fit for all four of them. Nicklas glances over his shoulder and up. “Coming?”

Geno blinks and a smirk crawls over his face. “Not yet.”

Nicklas grins back. This could be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Once in the bedroom, Geno pins him against the wall, one hand fisted in Nicky’s shirt and the other resting low on his hip. Geno mouths at Nicklas’ collarbone, and Nicklas arches into him. His shirt collar’s probably going to be stretched beyond saving, but Geno’s mouth is warm and wet and he uses just enough teeth that Nicklas hums.

Nicklas rakes his fingernails down Geno’s back, relishing the drawn-out hiss Geno lets out, the hard bite to Nicklas’ shoulder in return. He smirks, and then gasps as Geno plants large hands on his ass and  _ shoves  _ a knee up between Nicklas’ thighs. Nicklas can feel Geno’s erection against his hip, and his own arousal is quickly growing.

“What you want?” Geno all but growls against Nicklas’ neck.

Nicklas threads his fingers in Geno’s hair and yanks his head up until their eyes meet. His other hand scratches down Geno’s back again, adding more rapidly reddening lines to what’s already there. Geno’s breath catches. 

Nicklas drags Geno forward into a hard kiss, settling his back more firmly against the wall. He lets Geno cage him in; lets Geno press into him; enjoys the pressure of Geno’s leg against his growing erection, the weight and warmth of Geno’s body against his front. Nicklas bites at Geno’s lower lip; Geno’s hands tighten on Nicklas’ ass. 

He’ll definitely walk out of this hotel covered in marks—handprints and hickeys that Alex will smooth over with gentle hands and press kisses to when no one’s looking. Nicklas likes the thought of that, and bites at Geno’s lip again, chasing Geno’s mouth when Geno jerks back. There’s a tang of copper on Geno’s lips; Nicklas tilts his head and presses tiny kisses to the corners of Geno’s smile.

Geno still has Nicklas pressed against the wall, supported by Geno’s hands on his ass and Nicklas’ shoulders against the plaster. Nicklas thinks for a brief moment about wrapping his legs around Geno’s waist and letting Geno take his full weight, but there are other things he wants more than wall sex.

Nicklas pushes back against Geno, resettling his weight on the floor. Geno’s eyes are shut now, his mouth relaxed as he kisses Nicklas. Nicklas lets a smirk curl the edge of his mouth, and then  _ shoves _ Geno’s left shoulder hard, managing to catch Geno off balance and pivoting them both. Geno’s back  _ slams _ against the wall—Nicklas hopes the plaster holds up against the weight of two full-grown hockey players—and his eyes fly open. 

“Wha—?” he squeezes out before Nicklas drops to his knees in front of him. Nicklas runs his hands up Geno’s thighs and hooks his thumbs in Geno’s waistband. “Any requests?”

Geno’s hands land in Nicklas’ hair, combing through the strands. Nicklas really should get another haircut soon, but Alex loves his hair long, and Geno seems to appreciate it too. “No pulling on my hair,” Nicklas cautions. Geno swallows and nods, eyes hooded.

Nicklas unbuttons and unzips Geno’s jeans, tugging them down. Geno steps out of them and kicks them to the side. His briefs are dark, his erection clearly visible beneath the thin fabric. Nicklas hums thoughtfully as he works Geno’s underwear down and off, tossing them over with the jeans. Geno looks mildly ridiculous in just his socks, but Nicklas isn’t  _ that _ concerned with aesthetics. He’s definitely more interested in the blood-flushed dick inches from his nose.

Geno’s  _ definitely _ proportional. Those rumors hadn’t lied. Nicklas considers his options, then glances up at Geno’s face. Geno’s staring down at him wide-eyed, lips parted, a flush painting its way down his sparsely haired chest. It’s a good look, Nicklas decides.

Nicklas rests his right arm over Geno’s hips, pinning him against the wall. His left hand curls around the base of Geno’s dick, smoothing over the thin skin to hold it steady. Geno trembles beneath Nicklas’ arm, and Nicklas has the urge to pinch him. So he does, right on the sensitive skin over his hip. Geno yelps, the sound turning into a drawn-out moan as Nicklas slips Geno’s dick between his lips.

Nicklas rolls his tongue against the underside of Geno’s dick, pressing against the vein. Geno’s large enough that Nicklas won’t be able to fit all of him in his mouth, but that’s what his hand is for. He starts moving, bobbing his head down to meet the top of his fist. Geno’s thighs quiver, and his hips try to buck up. Nicklas presses his arm down firmly; he has no interest in choking himself.

When Geno’s thighs begin to tense, Nicklas slows down and pulls back. “You want to come in my mouth or on my face, Geno?”

Geno’s face turns even redder, and he presses a thumb to Nicklas’ lower lip. Nicklas nips at it. “You—your face, yes?”

Nicklas nods and resumes the blowjob, making sure that the rhythm of his hand matches his mouth. This time, when Geno tenses beneath him, Nicklas ups the suction and waits. The first spurt of come lands on his tongue; the remainder fairly paints his lips and chin in white. Geno considerately manages to keep Nicklas’ hair out of the way by virtue of having his hands buried in it.

Geno doubles over and kisses Nicklas, chasing the taste of his own come. Nicklas can’t say he minds all too much; Geno’s a pretty good kisser. But Nicklas is hard in his shorts, and his knees are beginning to ache.


	4. Chapter 4

Geno’s gentler after his orgasm. His hands card through Nicklas’ hair, one coming to rest at the base of Nicklas’ neck and the other resting on his shoulder. Nicklas lets Geno kiss him softly for a while before rocking back on his heels.

Geno straightens back up—he looks so much bigger from where Nicklas is still on his knees—and touches the tips of his fingers to his reddening lips. Nicklas stands, wincing as his hip protests the change in position. He strips out of his shirt and shucks his undershirt readily enough, enjoying Geno’s gaze on him.

Nicklas wipes his face before slipping out of shoes, socks, and shorts. Hockey players grow out of body shyness fairly quickly, but it’s not like Geno’s ever been on Nicklas’ team before, so he watches Geno look him over.

Nicklas has few illusions about what he looks like. He’s worked hard, and his body does what he needs it to do. And if his skin is flushed and sensitive where Geno’s left his mark, well, that’s hardly new. Alex likes seeing his marks on Nicklas’ body; Nicklas doesn’t mind it all that much. It seems Geno’s of the same mind, going by the way his eyes hover over the darkening hickeys on Nicklas’ collarbone.

Nicklas runs his fingers over them, pressing lightly to catalogue Geno’s reaction. He hears a sharp intake of breath from the doorway instead, and turns.

Nicklas doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the sheer awe and desire in Alex’s expression whenever Alex looks at him. It’s comforting, knowing that even as Alex gets his hands on his rival of a literal decade, he’s still stunned by Nicklas. Nicklas raises his eyebrows and tilts his head in question. _Well?_

Alex’s hair is a wreck. His lips are puffy and likely to bruise a bit by morning. Nicklas runs a quick check; Alex is still hard in his sweats and he’s breathing harder than usual, but his eyes are bright and his smile genuine.

Sid walks in behind Alex and Nicklas has to smother a smile. Sid, who never looks anything near to disheveled in public, is decisively rumpled. His hair fluffs, apparently, when you get enough of the gel out. And Nicklas is ready to bet that Alex’s hands will be sticky with it. Alex _hates_ Nicklas wearing product, and has gleefully watched a half-awake Nicklas searching in vain for his now-hidden gel more than once.

Alex has managed to rid Sid of his shirt, and even now Sid’s slipping off his socks. Nicklas outright laughs when Sid throws a judgemental glance Geno’s way, pointedly staring at Geno’s sock-clad feet. “Is warm!” Geno protests, when he notices Sid looking.

“It makes you look ridiculous,” Sid shoots back. There’s a smile in the curl of his lips; Geno’s fashion choices is no doubt an old argument more for argument’s sake than anything else. Nicklas can sympathize.

Nicklas shivers when warm hands trace his shoulders and skim down his sides to settle at his hips. He leans back into Alex’s chest and tips his head to the side. Alex’s beard rasps against his cheek and Nicklas turns into the kiss. His own hands curl over and twine between Alex’s, holding the Russian in place at his back.

Kissing Alex is as familiar as passing to him on the ice. Nicklas knows how to read every last little twitch of Alex’s body; knows when to open his mouth to Alex’s tongue and when to dig a blunt fingernail into the back of Alex’s hand to make him groan. Nicklas shifts on his feet, letting his movement rub his ass against Alex’s erection. He gets another groan for his efforts; Alex’s grip tightens.

Maybe, Nicklas thinks, he’ll end up with a matching set of handprints—Geno’s on his ass and Alex’s on his hips.

Nicklas grins into the kiss, one hand coming up to cup the back of Alex’s head, fingers smoothing against the wild strands. Alex’s eyes are closed, his entire attention on the feel of Nicklas in his arms. Nicklas taps his fingertips on Alex’s knuckles; Alex opens his eyes. “We have an audience,” Nicklas reminds him.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Sid cuts in. He’s managed to strip completely while Nicklas was otherwise occupied. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s half-sprawled over the end of the bed. Someone with Sid’s proportions shouldn’t manage to make that look as effortless as he does, Nicklas muses. Alex lays a line of kisses over the curve of Nicklas’ shoulder; Nicklas watches Geno slip onto the bed behind Sid and splay a possessive hand over Sid’s stomach.

They do make quite the pair, Nicklas notes. Where Geno is whipcord strength, Sid is solid muscle. Neither of them have much in the way of hair—Nicklas himself doesn’t either, but Alex has enough for Nicklas to card his fingers through on lazy mornings—but the summer has been kind to them both. Sid’s eyes are half-lidded with what Nicklas assumes is desire. His dick, when Nicklas looks, curves up toward his stomach.

It’s a nice dick, Nicklas observes. He says as much, watching for Sid’s reaction. He’s not disappointed. As Alex tries to unsuccessfully muffle his laughter in Nicklas’ hair, Sid’s eyes widen and his flush deepens. His shoulders start to shake and his laughter eventually joins Geno’s snickers to rise in volume.

Nicklas, for his part, steps out of Alex’s arms and dips down to catch Sid’s lips for their second—or is it their fifth—kiss. Sid keeps giggling into the kiss, eyes crinkling pleasantly at the corners. Nicklas chases the taste of his laughter. He draws back enough to ask, “What’s the plan here?”

Sid’s smile is confident. “Geno’s already had his. I figured you and I could get to know each other a little better, and Ovi gets the last shift. You want to watch me with him, right?”

Behind him, Alex’s breath hitches. Nicklas lets the corner of his mouth twitch up. He should’ve guessed Sid would read the play. Making Alex wait is one of Nicklas’ favorite things to do, and Alex isn’t one to turn down this kind of a challenge. Not from Nicklas, and certainly not with both Sid and Geno here and watching.

Nicklas grins. “I like the sound of that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final installment of this fic. I hope you enjoyed this little fic, and thanks for being patient with me.

Sid wastes no time in tugging Nicklas down onto the bed. He skates a hand over Nicklas’ ribs and Nicklas has a split-second to decide not to hold in his giggles. He’s rewarded with another crinkle-eyed smile and a kiss that turns absolutely _filthy_ within seconds.

No wonder Alex looks fucked out without having gotten off, if this is a hint of what went on in the living room while Nicklas got up close and personal with Geno’s dick.

Much as Nicklas enjoys Sid’s kisses, though, he’s also aware of just how much of his skin _isn’t_ touching Sid. He rectifies that soon enough, pulling Sid closer with a hand firmly gripping the meat of Sid’s ass. It’s hockey ass to the extreme, muscled and solid under his fingers. Sid jerks against him when Nicklas pats it appreciatively.

He pulls back from the kiss. “What are you doing?” Sid asks, brows furrowed.

“You like being fucked, or doing the fucking?” Nicklas asks bluntly.

“Fucking, usually.” Nicklas did not know Sid’s blush went down that far, honest. “But I don’t mind being fucked, if that’s what you want.”

Geno laughs. “He want. Everyone want fuck you, Sid. Best ass.”

Sid’s mouth twists, and he responds wryly, “So I’ve been told.”

Nicklas skates his fingers over the heavy muscle, dipping his fingertips into the crease between Sid’s cheeks. Sid jerks against him, then sighs. Nicklas kisses him again. Nicklas feels the bed shake as Alex presses up against his back, and spares a thought to wonder if the bed will hold 800+ pounds of hockey player. It doesn’t collapse instantly, so he chalks that up as a ‘yes.’

Alex’s hand strokes over Nicklas’ hip. Nicklas tilts back until his shoulder knocks into Alex’s sternum. Alex’s hand skims up over Nicklas’ chest. “Good, Nicky?”

Nicklas pauses.

Beneath his fingers, the muscle of Sid’s ass ripples as Sid moves onto his elbow to better see Nicklas’ face. “You know you don’t have to do more than you’re comfortable with, right?”

Nicklas knows that, but the air is still heavy with expectation. He doesn’t know quite how to explain why he stopped, or what made him stop. “I … I think I’d rather watch, if you don’t mind,” he finally offers.

Sid’s smile is kind, and Geno’s eyes are soft with understanding. “Sure. How—?” Sid asks.

Nicklas leans in and kisses that smile once more, his hand sliding up Sid’s back to the nape of his neck. Sid moves with him, lips swollen and red from Nicklas’ attentions. Nicklas deepens the kiss for a brief moment before pulling away completely. He sits up and scoots down toward the foot of the bed.

Nicklas has to shove at Alex’s thighs before his lover gets the message and trades places so Nicklas is now on the outside of the bed, putting Alex and Sid nose to nose. Sid giggles and hooks a finger in Alex’s necklace to pull him closer. Alex goes willingly, one big hand settling firmly on Sid’s ass right where Nicklas’ had sat just moments before.

Nicklas makes eye contact with Geno over their lovers’ bulk. Geno pulls a long-suffering face and Nicklas laughs. Nicklas smooths his hand down Alex’s back, enjoying the twitch of muscle beneath his fingers. Geno peppers Sid’s shoulders with tiny kisses and sucking bites. Nicklas watches, fascinated by the way Sid twitches beneath the touches, shifting to cover more of Alex with each nip.

Geno slides off the bed and pads over to one of the suitcases in the corner. Nicklas watches his ass appreciatively. When Geno turns back around, bright foil peeks out between his fingers. The bed dips beneath his knee and he scoots over, almost leaning against Nicklas. “I’m surprised you’re ready to go again already,” Nicklas teases.

Geno snorts. “Am 30. Not dead.” He looks pointedly over at where Sid is calmly, methodically driving Alex insane with teasing touches, avoiding Alex’s straining, flushed cock. “Would have to be dead to not like.”

Nicklas watches Sid press Alex down against the mattress, strong fingers wrapping around Alex’s wrist and pinning it above his head. Alex swallows, and hesitantly brings his other arm up as well, wrapping his own fingers around his opposite wrist. Sid positively _beams_ at Alex, and squeezes once more before stroking his fingers down Alex’s exposed underarm. “Good. Keep them there, Ovi.”

Sid presses firmly against Alex’s skin, not hard enough to leave marks but not lightly enough to tickle. Alex squirms beneath Sid’s weight. He could flip the two of them over at any time—he outweighs Sid by at least 30 pounds—but he lets Sid pet down his sides with gentle, capable hands. Alex’s pupils are blown wide, his breaths shallow.

Sid looks up, then, and beckons Geno over. Geno has to pretty much crawl over Nicklas’ lap to get to Alex and Sid, and Nicklas takes shameless advantage, getting in a good grope (or three) of pretty stellar hockey ass as he passes. Geno stops midway through and deliberately wiggles his ass in Nicklas’ face. Nicklas barks out another laugh and swats Geno to get him moving again.

Who knew having sex with another couple would involve so much laughter?

Geno settles with his back against the headboard and long legs stretched out on the other side of Sid and Alex’s intertwined bodies. When Sid glances up, Geno waggles the condom and bottle of lube at him.

Nicklas really loves Sid’s smile.

Alex whines, and Nicklas’ attention snaps back to his lover. Nicklas leans in and tips Alex’s head toward him. Glazed blue eyes trace his features and Alex strains toward him, trapped as he is beneath Sid’s weight and Geno’s strong hand on his wrists. Nicklas indulges him with a long kiss, stroking down Alex’s stubbly cheek. Alex turns into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Nicklas privately marvels at Alex’s absolute trust in him as the tension in Alex’s body dissipates.

Nicklas registers the exact moment Sid breaches Alex—Alex jerks, relaxes, and lets out a muffled moan in the space of seconds. But he opens easily beneath Sid’s careful touches, his body welcoming the familiar motion of being stretched. Nicklas distracts him with more kisses—and he can hear the crinkle of foil as Sid (or maybe Geno?) applies the condom and then the unmistakeable wet sounds of them kissing above his head.

Nicklas has to pull away, though, in order to watch when Sid actually gets his dick in Alex. He’s not as weirded out by it as he thought he’d be, to be perfectly honest. Another man fucking his lover isn’t as much of a disturbing thought when Alex is arching into it so prettily, arms straining against Geno’s hold and panting out wordless cries of pleasure as he’s stretched and filled.

And when Alex opens his eyes, his gaze flickers over Sid above him with obvious appreciation, but he turns to look at Nicklas almost immediately after. “Gorgeous,” Nicklas breathes out.

Geno’s groan of agreement draws both Sid and Nicklas’ attention to where he’s quite obviously enjoying the view. Geno’s face matches the flushed skin visible where he’s lazily stroking himself, still pinning Alex’s wrists above his head. Sid _definitely_ likes the view, if the way he speeds up his thrusts are any indication. And Nicklas is willing to admit that an arousal-pink Sid is a beautiful sight, just as Sid sets his shoulders and _drives_ into Alex hard enough to inch them up the bed.

Alex clenches down and Sid’s gone, freezing above Alex with a drawn-out groan. His shoulders shake and he drops to his elbows, narrowly missing slamming his nose into Alex’s chest. His hips thrust a few more times before he stills and just breathes.

Alex shivers and protests when Sid carefully pulls out and disposes of the condom with brisk efficiency. Nicklas slides two fingers inside Alex, checking for pain or blood. Alex grumbles unhappily, cock still blood-flushed and bouncing against his stomach. But he stays put when Nicklas pinches his hip.

“Sasha, you want more?” Geno asks.

It’s visibly a struggle for Alex to parse the English, mouth working silently before he manages, “Fucking fuck me, Zhenya.”

That’s consent enough, Nicklas supposes. Geno tucks his legs under him and rolls on a condom as Sid and Nicklas roll Alex to his hands and knees facing the foot of the bed. Alex is heavy, but cooperative, and they manage it well enough that Geno can slide in just as Alex gets his knees braced.

All of Alex’s breath rushes out in a _whoosh_ and he nearly faceplants into the sheets. Geno gets an arm around Alex’s middle and hauls him up and back, Geno’s cock slipping out of Alex in the process.

It’s a beautiful picture when Nicklas sits back enough to look: Geno sitting back on his heels in the middle of the bed, Alex spread wide over Geno’s lap, head tilted back into the curve of Geno’s neck and shoulder. Alex is panting, wordless and desperate for release. Sid helps steady Alex’s weight, lowering him onto Geno’s cock more slowly than Nicklas knows Alex wants.

Alex’s fingers clench as he’s filled, and Nicklas watches carefully. “Stop.”

Geno and Sid both freeze. Alex moans.

“He doesn’t like it too deep like this,” Nicklas says, “but if you—” Geno rocks up, just a bit, and Alex fairly spasms in his arms. “There,” Nicklas says, a pleasant burn settling low in his chest as he watches his lover fall apart. Sid’s moved a few feet away, but there’s a glint in his eye as he watches Geno fuck Alex. Nicklas wonders if Sid knows about Geno and Alex.

Geno’s hips stutter into a steady rhythm, and Nicklas matches pace with his own hand on his cock. He’s been hard long enough for precum to drip, creating a smooth slide. Alex’s head lolls against Geno’s shoulder, breath stuttering with every thrust. Sid’s palm strokes up Alex’s shaft and over the head and Alex is gone, back bowing with a high-pitched keen.

Geno curses as Alex tightens around him. His hips rock forward; his teeth close on Alex’s shoulder as he muffles a shout. Nicklas speeds up his own pace, but it’s the fucked-out look on Alex’s face that finally pushes him over the edge. He comes into his hand with a cry.

There’s a few beats of quiet before Sid bustles into motion, easing Alex’s limp form into his arms as Geno slips out and tosses the condom. Nicklas walks on shaky legs to the bathroom to rinse and wet a few cloths. He nearly runs into Geno as he emerges, but they manage to avoid a collision. Geno takes one of the washcloths and wipes himself down before tossing it back into the bathroom.

Geno grabs a second cloth from Nicklas as they reach the bed and hauls Sid closer by the arm. Sid protests, but lets Geno wipe him down, taking care around the purpling bruises on his shoulders. Sid rolls his eyes.

Alex is just about out; Nicklas pays careful attention to where Geno’s teeth had barely broken the skin, and is gentle when he cleans the lube and come from Alex’s stomach and thighs. Alex barely twitches when Nicklas lobs the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom (he makes it, where it lands with a _plop_ on the tile).

Nicklas lays a kiss over each red mark on Alex’s skin, gentle touches to keep Alex grounded and aware as he slips into sleep. Geno and Sid, scrubbed as clean as possible without a shower, help Nicklas shift Alex more toward the center of the bed and climb in after him. “He’s alright?” Sid asks.

“Yes. Just needs sleep, now,” Nicklas answers.

“Good.” Geno pulls the discarded sheets back onto the bed and over their legs. “Now time for cuddles. Come, Sid.” He holds open his arms and Sid obediently snuggles up, looking younger than his years. Nicklas, for his part, curls against Alex in their typical sleeping arrangement, his back to Alex’s side. He can feel the rise and fall of Alex’s even breaths, see the way Geno combs his fingers through Sid’s hair.

This wasn't such a terrible idea after all.


End file.
